


(Everything I Do) I Do It For You

by mythras_fire



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Presents, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Dancing, True Love's Kiss, but AU in that Bucky gets to keep his arm and his mind and his Steve, cuz he deserves to be happy dammit, epic Bryan Adams song of epicness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 12:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13030857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythras_fire/pseuds/mythras_fire
Summary: “Thank you, Stevie,” Bucky says, his voice rough with emotion, his eyes falling on their clasped hands. “This is the nicest Christmas present a fella could ask for."





	(Everything I Do) I Do It For You

**Author's Note:**

> I love this song by Bryan Adams and feel that it perfectly describes Bucky and Steve's relationship with each other over space and time. That and I've always wanted to write a Stucky!Christmas fic ^^. OTP One ♥
> 
> Disclaimer: All song lyrics for [(Everything I Do) I Do It For You](http://play.google.com/music/preview/Tcan7zoooo6wcsx3qobq7ecrvqi?lyrics=1&utm_source=google&utm_medium=search&utm_campaign=lyrics&pcampaignid=kp-songlyrics&u=0#) belong to Bryan Adams and other respective creators. Any other cultural references belong to their respective creators as well. I own nothing except the plot bunnies. So many plot bunnies...

Bucky opens the front door of the Brooklyn apartment he shares with Steve to the melodic strains of a Spanish guitar and the soulful yet roguish voice of Bryan Adams practically purring out the lyrics to _Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?_

He immediately cracks a smile and calls out rhetorically, “Been watching _Don Juan deMarco_ again, have we, babydoll?” as he walks into the living room to see what his boyfriend has been up to since Bucky left at three to do some “super ninja spy” training, as Sam puts it, with Natasha and Clint. It is now seven-thirty, and Steve is nowhere in sight.

“Steve?”

Bucky’s heightened senses alert him to the subtle swish of socked feet rubbing against the carpet, coming from the direction of the kitchen, just as the current song finishes, and the next one starts.

The living room is lit only by artfully placed single-string multicolored Christmas lights, traditional C9’s adorning their small Christmas tree, and modern faerie lights hung on the walls and over the windows. From where Bucky is standing, near a window that looks onto a small park during the day, he sees Steve appear behind him, reflected in the window under the soft red, blue, green, and yellow glow.

_Look into my eyes_  
_You will see_  
_What you mean to me_

Bucky hears these lyrics in stereo, one set from the speakers of the retro-styled sound system designed to resemble a record player, and another, softer set from the man who places a hand on Bucky’s right shoulder to spin him gently around, seamlessly transitioning them into a slow waltz around the coffee table.

_Search your heart_  
_Search your soul_  
_And when you find me there, you’ll search no more_

Bucky is momentarily at a loss for words. His speechlessness must be quite evident on his face because Steve grins his stupid punk grin and continues leading him around the coffee table in slow circles, deftly avoiding obstacles in their path like the loveseat, Bucky’s backpack, and their tuxedo-colored furry four-legged friend, [г-н кошка](http://translate.google.com/?oe=utf-8&client=firefox-b-1-ab&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&client=tw-ob#ru/en/%D0%B3-%D0%BD%20%D0%BA%D0%BE%D1%88%D0%BA%D0%B0) [follow Google Translate link to hear name pronounced], aka Mr. Cat in Russian, asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace, arms and legs akimbo. 

Bucky is thunderstruck for several reasons:  
A) For the first twenty-six years of his life, Steve had two left feet.  
B) Steve had never had much of a singing voice because it was often all he could do just to breathe deeply, let alone sonorously and on-key.  
C) This is going to be their song.

As this epiphany washes over him and a myriad of emotions plays over his features, the grin on Steve’s face softens into something adoring and his beautiful blue eyes lock with Bucky’s soulful grey ones.

_Look into your heart_  
_You will find_  
_There’s nothin’ there to hide_  
_Take me as I am_  
_Take my life_  
_I would give it all, I would sacrifice_

Bucky finally manages to find his voice. “May I inquire as to how long you’ve been in town, Mr. Astaire?” 

Steve tips an imaginary top hat with the hand he’s had wrapped around Bucky’s waist and releases him out for a spin into the space between the loveseat and the couch before expertly pulling him back in and resuming their circuit, never missing a beat.

“Oh, about two months,” he says casually. His face is serene as he hums the bars of the chorus, but his eyes are twinkling mischievously.

“I see,” Bucky says, seeing nothing.

“Remember how you’d ask me where I was off to the first couple of times I left the house in those slick brown and ivory wingtips a couple months back?”

Bucky’s brow furrows in concentration. “Yeah, you said you were gonna go put your feet in the air and move them around.”

“Exactly.”

Steve dips Bucky as they pass in front of the fireplace, eliciting a surprised gasp from Bucky’s throat at the sudden change in perspective. г-н кошка meows lazily at this invasion of his personal space bubble but is too warm and comfy to bother swatting at them. When Bucky’s pulled upright again, Steve draws him in close and softly echos another verse next to Bucky’s ear.

_Oh you can’t tell me it’s not worth tryin’ for_  
_I can’t help it there’s nothin’ I want more_  
_Yeah, I would fight for you_  
_I lie for you_  
_Walk the wire for you, yeah, I’d die for you_

A full-body shudder works its tingling way down Bucky’s spine at the veracity in those words, whisper-sung so sweetly and meaningfully by his best friend.

Steve pulls back in time to sing the next stanza with their foreheads touching, their feet now stationary, hands clasped between their chests, hips swaying gently back and forth to the swelling instrumental music of the end of the song.

_You know it’s true_  
_Everything I do_  
_Oh_  
_I do it for you_

Bucky tilts his chin up to thank Steve for the dance and the song with a kiss. Now it’s Steve’s turn to shudder as he pulls Bucky into a proper embrace, content to stand there kissing the love of his life without a care in the world.

“Merry Christmas, Buck,” he finally pulls back to say a few minutes later, a loving smile on his gorgeous face.

Bucky stares at him uncomprehendingly for a moment or two, still pleasantly hazy from this lovely surprise, and then the Eureka! moment happens and it’s his turn to grin.

“So… those were… you’ve been taking what, dance lessons?”

“Yup.”

“And the…?” Bucky gesticulates at Steve’s throat and the record player.

“Turns out I can do my momma proud after all, now that I’ve got some lungs on me that work right,” Steve replies, a bittersweet tinge to his voice, his head held a little higher. “She had a lovely singing voice, used to sing me to sleep when I was little and collicky.”

Bucky can’t help staring some more. “She would be proud indeed.”

Steve squeezes Bucky a little tighter in agreement before stepping back to slide his right hand down Bucky’s left arm to entwine their fingers.

“I know how much you liked to go dancing, before the war, and I never got the chance to take you after the serum, I’m sure we could have found some place where fellas could, y’know, so I figured I’d try learning how to dance so I could surprise you for our first Christmas together in our new place…” Steve trails off, his bravado from earlier wearing off, his adorable bashfulness returning.

Bucky knows he’s still staring, but he also knows that Steve would be doing the same thing if the situation were reversed.

“Thank you, Stevie,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, his eyes falling on their clasped hands. “This is the nicest Christmas present a fella could ask for, dancing with his best guy to a song that seems like it was written just for us.”

Steve preens at the compliment while somehow still managing to blush prettily. Bucky is in awe.

“Does this mean we can go out dancing some time, now that there’re lots of places where fellas can, y’know?” Bucky can’t resist teasing. 

Steve’s blush deepens and he shoves Bucky with their clasped hands before running his free hand up to rub at the back of his neck, his tell for nervousness. “Uh, sure, Buck. Sure we can. I think they’re having a New Year’s Eve dance at Holy Innocents,” and here Steve carefully holds up the index and middle fingers of both hands to make air quotes, “‘old-school’ as Sam calls our dances. We could take Natasha and Clint. Show ’em how it’s really done.”

Bucky laughs at that, not Steve’s idea, but his emphatic and clearly recent acquisition of the use of air quotes. “You are such a dork.”

Steve tugs at his arm playfully, leading the way into the kitchen as he replies over his shoulder, “Hah, and you’re stuck with me, so what’s that make you?”

Bucky needs no time to think of a witty retort. No time at all.

“Lucky.”

  
  


The End


End file.
